


Lonely hearts can't be broken

by sticks_and_scars



Category: Star Wars Legends: Legacy of the Force Series - Aaron Allston & Troy Denning & Karen Traviss
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Couch Sex, F/M, Face-Sitting, Flashbacks, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Light Femdom, Missing Scene, Multi, Oral Sex, Shameless Smut, She just needs to control something ok??, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unintentionally romantic moments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-14 14:17:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17510174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sticks_and_scars/pseuds/sticks_and_scars
Summary: Missing scene from Legacy of the Force: Sacrifice after Jaina finds out Mara has died. She latches onto a chance to control something, or someone, for just a moment and Jag is a convenient option. Feelings threaten to ruin the temporary reprieve from chaos.[Threesome with Kyp exists in a flashback but will be, hopefully, expanded upon later (tags and note included so no one is disappointed or caught off guard if they find brief MMF objectionable)]





	Lonely hearts can't be broken

**Author's Note:**

> I'm hoping to make this into a series, since these two fucking like rabbits is basically canon (or EU canon, whatever, you know what I mean).
> 
> Oh, I hc Jag without have facial hair. Don't @ me.
> 
> 7/1/19 - Oh lord, bless you all for not tearing me to shreds. This was nothing short of ham-fisted in its original incarnation. I've cleaned up a lot of the grammar and some of the more cringey dialog. Oof. Not my finest work. It's better now, mostly.

Jaina found herself back in the makeshift taskforce office with no recollection of ever setting a course in that direction. After she left Luke at Starfighter Command, furious and determined, reality seeped through the silence and settled into her mind like a lead weight.

Mara was never coming back.

She had been killed.

She was a casualty of this ridiculous war stoked into a blazing inferno by her twin. Stealing herself with a fortifying breath, Jaina pushed the door open and found both Jag and Zekk sitting in the small office.

Zekk’s head was buried in his hands, barely willing himself to lift his eyes to meet hers.

“Don’t, Zekk, please just don’t.” Jaina bit out through hoarse vocal cords, struggling to maintain a tone of indifference, knowing Zekk was not the object of her ire. He didn’t deserve her wrath but it was inevitable at this point.

If possible, Zekk deflated even a little bit more. Zekk and Mara were never particularly close but, having been an unofficial extension of the Solo clan, he still regarded her as family. Regardless, Mara was a powerful Jedi - her death sent a shockwave through the Force, undeniably strong.

Sighing, Jaina reached out in the Force to delicately probe Zekk’s mind and, perhaps, offer a slight apology. Instead of grief for Mara, Jaina found concern bordering on fear...for her.

Zekk was always so controlled, so proper, so _light_. His brush with the dark side when they were younger, and Jaina’s own turn down that path, made Zekk hypersensitive to anything that might send her back down that spiral into darkness, where she sought comfort after Myrkr.

After Anakin died. After her twin died, or so they all thought.

But maybe, taking their current reality into consideration, death might not have been such an incorrect way of thinking about Jacen’s captivity. _Jacen._

She sighed heavily.

Scrunching up her face with a hint of disgust, she snapped “Zekk, you need to reel in that line of thinking or walk out of here before I truly show you just how dark this might get.”

“Jaina…” Zekk offered his hands in a placating gesture one might use to calm an animal on the verge of attacking.  
“I’m serious. Shut it down, shut me out, or leave. I don’t care. I don’t need you to worry about me every time someone close to me dies. It’s going to keep happening.” Her throat seized making her voice thin, “I am the Sword of the Jedi and this is war.” She paused, the heaviness of her next thought almost too painful to grind out, “it’s never going to stop and if you can’t trust me to keep myself together, you need to go.” 

She pushed him an image of a door slamming shut, leaving him alone on the other side, completely blocked from reaching out to her in the Force. Jaina absolutely did not have the energy to coddle his fears and reassure him that everything was going to be ok. _Because you know what? Nothing was ok._ Nothing was going to be ok for a long time. Mara was dead. Jacen was positively pathological. And here was Zekk, holding onto some tenuous connection that had disintegrated long ago. He was her partner, her friend, and nothing more. And right now he was compounding her misery.

==+==

Understanding pressing her any further would likely do irreparable damage and, despite every cell of his being screaming that Jaina should not be left alone, Zekk dropped his hands between his knees, drew in a calming breath, and pushed to his feet.

He shot a look to Jag, who silently watched the exchange with a stoic air of indifference. Searching the other man’s presence in the Force, Zekk was reasonably confident Jag wouldn't take advantage of being alone with a vulnerable Jaina. He shook his head, admonishing himself for being so petty. There was an equal chance Jaina would tear into Jag next and kick him out too. That brought a small measure of comfort.

“Alright,” and he locked eyes with Jaina, communicating every last condolence he wasn’t allowed to say. “I’ll be around when you’re ready to talk.”

Jaina scoffed and shifted her gaze past his shoulder to the training room beyond their cluster of desks. With a quick look to Jag and a tightening of the corners of his eyes as if to intimidate the pilot, Zekk quietly exited the room to wander the halls of the temple.

==+==

A brief, pregnant moment hung in the air while Jag took in Jaina’s appearance. For all intents and purposes, she looked the same as she did earlier in the day: her eyes weren’t red rimmed. her cheeks weren’t splotchy from crying, there was no indication her world had been shattered.

He did notice a hollowness the longer she stared unfocused into the room beyond. The rage and hurt were undeniable. Regardless of their time apart, and his Force-blindness, sometimes Jag swore that connection he once shared with Jaina, the one that allowed him to sense her when she most needed help, was still active. This might be one of those times when she was projecting, even if on a subconscious level.

“Whyren’s?” he asked, breaking the silence that crept further and further towards uncomfortable. Jaina broke her gaze from whatever had been holding her attention for the long seconds since Zekk had taken his leave.

“What? Oh, yeah, I guess,” Jaina, seemingly back on auto-pilot, found her way to the sofa near the desk and sat with all the grace she would use to land her X-wing. Jag placed a crystal tumbler half-full of the amber liquid that so often provided comfort, celebrated victories, or lead to questionable choices that seem like an excellent idea at the time, on the edge of the desk. She reached for it so quickly that Jag’s hand had barely released the glass. The brief brush of their fingers sent a spark through her body. Her eyes snapped up towards his, holding a fire Jag hadn’t seen in years but was gone as quickly as it appeared. 

==+==

Jag’s touch makes something that had been dormant, deliberately laid to rest, roar back to life. A hunger long denied. Locking into his unguarded emerald gaze made her want to crawl across the desk, peel off her clothes, and have him make her forget.

He was always so good at making the noise in her head stop and the worries of the world simply fall away.

But, no, Mara was right, Jaina thought wearily, she needed to stop playing these foolish games. Now, more than ever, she needed to focus on maintaining her razor edge. A powerful pull permeated every fiber of her being and whispered that the Sword was going to be called into action sooner than later.

These thoughts raced through her mind in an instant and were abruptly stopped when Jag all but whipped his hand back to pour himself a drink, tucking the coveted bottle back into the lower drawer of his desk.

Lifting the glass up to her lips, she muttered her thanks, and downed the contents in a single gulp. Expecting the burn, she welcomed the heat as it slid past her lips, across her tongue, and blazed a path to settle into her stomach.

The fire started to clear her mind upon contact.

“What? Nothing to say?” she, again, knew that her ire was misdirected but she felt like a malfunctioning droid erratically cycling through programming in no discernable order. Apparently the line of coding controlling her mouth was beyond surly, like an ancient HK model.  
Jag merely maintained that frustratingly gorgeous mask of control. He lifted one shoulder in a slight shrug. “No, not really. That little display with Zekk said everything I needed to know.” Jaina squinted at him, searching for superiority or condescension.

“What’s that?” She asked finding none of those negative emotions, carefully sliding her glass back at him - best chance at avoiding a repeat of before. She wasn’t sure she could handle touching him again.

“Nothing,” he replied coolly.

“Nothing?” Exasperated, “what does that even mean, Jag? I don’t want to play games.” In the moment between her words and his reply, she shifted her eyes towards the glass, an indication she wanted a refill. He quirked his single scarred brow ever so slightly but ignored her.

“Yeah, nothing. Look, Jaina,” Jag leaned back in his chair just enough to put a bit more space between them while maintaining his consistently perfect posture. “I’ve known you long enough to realize no one can pry something out of you before you’re ready. I know you’re hurting, I know you’re furious, and I know your mind is positively spinning with solutions to problems that might not yet exist.”  
When she didn’t respond immediately, he pressed on.

“Zekk is terrified of you seeking comfort in the darkness. He knows how much Mara means...meant...to you. Between this and whatever is going on with Jacen, he’s still scared of losing you one way or another.” This time he held her gaze, softening his features and taking a small breath as if to fortify himself against her rebuttal.

Jaina took a moment to roll his words around in her brain, trying to decide what point to respond to first. To her surprise, before she finished processing, words fell from her mouth.

“But you’re not scared for me, are you Jag?” the tiniest hint of amusement or perhaps coyness slipped out; the whisky dulling the edges of her carefully crafted shields. She was looking at him through her lashes.

A dark eyebrow again arched up, a silent challenge or question, she wasn’t sure. It pulled up the corner of his mouth in the same fashion. “No, Jaina, I’m not. I trust that you’re in control, for the most part, of your emotions. Of your path.”

He sighed and emptied the last bit of his drink. Then in a whisper, speaking down at the glass, he added “I’ve always known that I’m just along for the ride in whatever capacity you allow.”

She looked at him quizzically, taking the force of that statement like a glancing blow.

Returning to a normal tone, Jag finished, “of course I’ll be here if you want to talk, if you want to sit in silence, if you want _a_ drink.”

She again looked at the glass, rolling back and forth in his hands, a tiny pout on her face.

“I can’t control, influence, or change anything about you. But I won’t enable anything self destructive, and maybe that will give you pause, but ultimately you’ll do what you want. That’s always been the case with you, Jaina.” A shadow of sadness passed over his sculpted features emphasizing the small lines around his eyes and mouth, the only real evidence of age starting to show. “That’s how it’s always been with you,” he finished more softly than before.

The words were a mere murmur, laced with years of rejection and affection in equal measure. They settled like a physical thing inside of Jaina’s heart, the strain making it beat a little faster, work a little harder to push around the obstruction.

Her response was a whisper, “what do I do now, Jag? Please, tell me the next step because I’m drowning in all the different things I think I could be doing to find Mara’s killer or stop this war or fix my heart or…” her teeth audibly clicked as she slammed her mouth shut. _What did Mara_ just _say? Great way to honor that last conversation, Jaina._ Abashed, she found a particularly interesting stain on the floor to concentrate on while she reeled in her embarrassment, and shame.

Always the gracious one, Jag merely cleared his throat before answering. “First, we find Alema. We’re soldiers and we have a mission. That much is clear.”

Silence followed. Realizing he wasn’t going to add on to that statement, Jaina risked lifting her eyes and saw his forehead knotted in thought with an unfocused gaze. It seemed Jag discovered he had no idea what the next step would be either.

Pushing ahead, she said, “and then what? What do we do after Alema is gone?”

Locking his brilliant green eyes with her luxuriously brown, a small spark arced between them, giving Jag an opportunity to side-step the real question. “We? There’s a ‘we’ after Alema?”

Stunned, again, by her own programming failures, Jaina figured she might as well forge ahead. “Sorry Mara,” she muttered under her breath before letting out a massive sigh. “Maybe? Yes? I don’t know, Jag. I want there to be a future for...us,” she felt an unsettling mix of foreboding, disappointment in herself, and wistfulness for what might be. “But, not right now. I don’t know where the future will take us. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t holding onto that something, though.” She straightened, “Mara was right. I have work to do and I can’t keep living in this bubble where it seems the only real decision of any consequence I need to make is between you or Zekk.” She knew the words were shrill and hollow, like she was convincing herself and failing miserably.

The twinkle in his gaze faltered. “Not that there’s much of a choice if I’m being honest,” muffled by another heavy sigh. The twinkle returned.

Taking a few beats to compose himself, he replied gently, “I’ll wait.”

Jaina made a soft noise in the back of her throat implying she needed further clarification.

Again steeling himself, but not for impact, Jag continued, “I’ll wait for you Jaina. I don’t know what the future has for us either but just knowing you want one makes me believe that we’re going to get through all of this. Maybe not without some bumps and bruises but we’ll get to the other side.”

She wanted to smile, she wanted so badly to command the muscles in her face to lift the corners of her mouth, pull back her lips, and give Jag the grin of confirmation he deserved.

But her face remained impassive.

Seeming to understand the struggle going on inside her mind, Jag gave one of his tiny grins, the one he always reserved especially for her, with a small nod. He walked around to the front of his desk and leaned back, hands providing support against the faux wood grain top, and crossed his ankles. An attempt at a casual posture that caused his lower half of his jumpsuit to pull and gather in an extremely flattering, if not entirely inappropriate, manner.

“Jaina?” He asked with an unexpected touch of mirth.

_Kriff, was I really staring?_

She dragged her eyes back up to his. “Hm?”

He was clearly waiting for her to say something - she needed to say something, anything to break the awkward silence she created.  
He just dropped a bomb and all she could think about was making bad choices. Shaking her head, she finally found a few words, meek and barely audible, “I can’t ask you to wait for me. That’s not fair.”

An argument was forming on his lips but she locked his gaze, eyes slightly glassy and cut him off, “but there is something you can do for me.”

“Sure, of course, anything Jaina.” In those few words, Jaina knew he meant it, and knew he would give whatever she needed because that’s who he was. He was a fixer, and Jaina was his never-ending project. She should take offense - she didn’t need anyone to fix her; that would imply she was broken. But she couldn’t care. She needed a warm body and he was an easy target.  
She launched like a starfighter heading into combat, effectively pinning him to the desk. She pushed him back against the surface, having used the Force to brush aside any data pads and flimsy that might otherwise cause a painful landing. 

Her knees trapped his hips and his hands were still locked behind from where they had previously been supporting most of his weight. Jaina pressed her mouth to his in a manic hunger.

He managed to get a hand free to buy himself a little space to think as he reached up to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear and cradled her face. Jag searched her face, looking for an explanation, anything to make sense of her actions. He cocked his head to the side ever so slightly as she held back from leaning into his touch.

She wanted to slap his hand away - this was not the time for gentle and tender.

But then he curled his hand further back and into her hair, making a fist at the nape of her neck and crashed her face back into his. The pain of her hair being pulled was exquisite and effective at short-circuiting her mind. Jag’s tongue ran across her lower lip. When she didn’t immediately open, he nipped, causing her to moan and grant him the access he was seeking.

He was always good at making her forget.

Jaina felt herself falling into their well-rehearsed rhythm but something felt wrong. She wasn’t looking for comfort - she needed control. 

Nothing in this world made sense, everything was chaos, and she needed something, someone to be entirely at her mercy. _Sorry, Jag. My turn,_ she thought, abruptly switching the power dynamic.

Using the Force, Jaina locked the doors to control the environment, a solid first step. Then she constructed even stronger shields within her mind to protect against prying Force users - they were in the Jedi Temple, after all.

Shifting her focus back to Jag, she clasped the wrist of the hand tangled in her hair and applied just the right amount of pressure to make him release his grasp while at the same time taking the lead in the duel between their mouths. She coaxed his tongue into a retreat using a whirlwind assault then ran the tip against the edges of his top teeth which allowed her to suck on his top lip. A grunt of pleasure escaped from Jag and she felt a small victory on the horizon.

Peeling her mouth away from his, she planted kisses along his strong jaw until she reached his ear “you’re mine, Fel. For now, for later, forever.” She bit onto the lobe eliciting a deep growl that sent a jolt between her legs. The pressure of Jag’s bulge against her core already had her aching with need but she craved more. Jaina ground her hips against him. 

The quest for friction must have broken her concentration because Jag was able to get both hands under her ass and lift, stumbling towards the nearest wall to pin her in place.

“Am I, now? Seems you might be mistaken.” His cockiness was so frustrating but, though she hated to admit it, was one of the things that drew her into his orbit. 

“Was that a challenge?” She responded breathlessly as he ran his teeth over the pulse point in her neck.

“You think I’m just going to submit to you because you want me to, Jaina? No, I don’t think so, you’ll need to work for it.” His mouth was leaving a trail of flame across her skin.

“Fine,” she huffed and pulled a ridiculous move that she knew would leave him temporarily stunned. Pushing back, Jaina flipped their position, none too gently pushing Jag into the wall. Latching onto the lapels of his jumpsuit, Jaina pulled them down as she lowered herself, but not before she placed the zipper between her teeth. With a little assistance from the Force, knowing damn well every Master would have scolded her relentlessly for such an inappropriate use, she floated down in a fluid movement. The end result was Jaina on her knees in front of Jag with his jumpsuit peeled to his waist, resting just above the growing mass that was begging to be released from its fabric prison.

“Impressive, Solo.” He looked down at her with genuine awe - and awestruck he should be. That was a damn good move.

“You haven’t experienced the definition of that word yet.”

She yanked on the arms of the utility, dropping it below his waist. Locking his eyes, now a dark mossy green under the haze of lust, she hooked her index fingers into the waistband of his undershorts and slowly, agonizingly, pulled them down to expose his cock that greeted her just below eye level.

==+==

Jag let out a sigh now that that pressure was alleviated and sucked in a breath, taking in the sight before him: Jaina Solo, on her knees, hands locked onto his hips with his extremely hard cock just centimeters from her mouth.

He knew he was playing a game that would going to end so badly, so _so_ badly for him but...if this was what Jaina needed, he knew he was helpless. He tried, he really did, to hate her for every past slight, every time she had walked away. But he had to believe that she would come around, she said as much. And when she finally did, when this was all over, it would be for good. 

But right now she clearly needed a distraction, even if it would break his heart. There was hope. And that would have to be enough to hold him together him after she left this office and everything returned to purely professional until...until she accomplished whatever mission the Force had assigned her as the Sword.

So he continued to play his part.

“Kriff, Jaina,” he reached down to put his hands in her hair and on her cheek, “you know you’d look even sweeter with that in your mouth.” Jag almost cringed at the line but it had the desired effect. 

Before his fingers could make contact, his arms shot up towards the ceiling and were locked in place.

She clamped her teeth and spread her lips in a predatory grin.

“Ah ah ah, no touching.” She ran her nails around his hips and grabbed onto his ass for support as she showed him how sweet she could be by ever so delicately rolling the tip of her tongue under the head then used the broad flat part and remove the glistening precum before it grew too heavy and dripped away.

Jaina surged up and locked her mouth onto his again, passing on the slightly salty flavor. He melted against her. It wasn't that he has a particular fondness for tasting himself but it brought back memories of rare moments during the Yuuzahn Vong war when they, along with Kyp Durron, would make terrible decisions together on top of buildings, in private training rooms, and that one really nice ‘fresher she had been given as a goddess.

Being raised with the Chiss, Jag had no rigid ideals regarding sexuality. To him, attraction was attraction, a release was a release. As long as there was consent and everyone was having fun, he enjoyed the company of all genders.

So tasting that which was typically masculine on her tongue made his mind spiral. Jaina had brought her hands under his shirt and was judiciously using her nails along the dips of his abs until she reached his nipples. She moved in such a way that only the soft weave if his shirt brushed against the sensitive skin she was very deliberately avoiding. 

“What are you thinking about, Jag?.”

When he could only whimper in response, she answered for him, “Are you thinking about that night on top of the research facility where we finished that bottle of awful jet juice with Kyp? Remember that?” Her hands slid back down his body - fingers now painfully digging into his hip bone as she languidly moved her body against his in an imitation of what he hoped would happen as soon as he could get her undressed.

“And I took him in my mouth while you took him from behind? Then right before he finished I stretched up to kiss you?”

If he wasn’t so sure about her alignment these days he might consider that she had already fallen back to the dark side because this was literally torture. He couldn’t touch her. He couldn’t think enough to speak. All he could do was nod and moan.  
“Then what happened, Jag?’

She stepped back and started to slowly strip out of her own utilities, turning to the side and bending deeply to provide a perfect silhouette of her body as she untied her boots.

Repeating herself, this time with a bit of impatience, she held the top of her utilities against her bare chest, seeming to wait for his response before exposing herself fully.

He coughed to clear his mind.

“You wouldn’t let either of us cum until you did first...you, you bent over in front of Kyp and used his cock.”

“Yes, that’s true. Then what?” she dropped the top down to reveal her perfect tits, small, but always so extremely perky with pebbled nipples that he would beg to lick and tease.

“Kyp was furious. That really was a cruel thing to do, he could barely hold it together. You created some sort of feedback loop - I could, kriff, I could feel what Kyp was feeling - inside you and being filled from behind, and everything you were feeling. It was incredible. I had never been so hard in my entire life.” Jag managed to shake his head, “poor Kyp.”

She trilled a laugh like a wind chime on a warm breezy day as she pushed the utilities, along with her basic black undershorts, down entirely and stepped out revealing creamy skin marked by small scars from long ended battles that she kept as reminders. When she turned back to face him, he saw that she maintained her pubic hair in a neat little landing strip on top, while her swollen lips were smooth.

“Never?” She stalked back towards him, her body tense and electric with power and intent.

“Never, until now” he answered honestly. He has almost forgotten how insanely devious she could be. Sure, they had beautiful romantic times as often as the kinky times, but she was wild and unpredictable in all aspects of her life which translated to the bedroom in the most interesting ways.

“Good answer.” That all-tooth smile was back and Jag knew he was in trouble. He welcomed it.

She again lowered to her knees and graciously took the head of his cock into her mouth while cradling his balls. Jag dropped his head against the wall, painfully, unable to process both the visual and tactile data flowing through his body.

He definitely lost this round. All traces of his previous bravado and dominance were gone.

His moans grew in frequency and duration as she expertly manipulated him with gentle pulls, delicate taps, and the occasional light scratch.

She has taken more of his cock into her mouth, her pink lips open wide and brilliant tongue undulating in tandem with the forward and back movement of her entire head.

Before he could open his mouth to warn that he was dangerously close, she backed off, releasing with an audible pop.  
She stood and walked backwards to the couch where she sat primly for a moment before throwing her arms along the back and opened her knees wide to provide an explicit view of her core.

“Such a good boy, knowing that he’s not allowed to cum without permission.” Her voice was dark and filled Jag with a sense of foreboding that he found all too exciting in this state.

His hands were released from their Force-held grip and fell unceremoniously to his sides. Flexing to work the blood back through his fingers, but not taking his eyes off the gorgeous sight offered to him, he asserted, “I should be concerned that you were able to get inside my head but somehow I can’t be bothered to care.”

A laugh, husky yet playful, “oh Jag, I don’t need the Force. I know your body well enough to know when your abs start rolling like a Twi’lek dancer you have mere moments before exploding.”

“Oh, do you now? And how long has that memory kept you company?” _Finally_ , he thought, some of his wit was starting to return.

It was a fair question considering the last time they slept together was at least 6, maybe 7, years ago.

“Not as long as the memory of your mouth.” She snapped, “if you don’t strip out of the rest of your clothes and crawl over here in the next 30 seconds you’ll only get to watch the rest.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. In record time he untangled himself from the jumpsuit, peeled off his undershirt, removed his boots, and dropped to hands-and-knees to crawl like a starving animal stalking the last of their prey before impending winter. Dignity be damned.

==+==

She moved her hips to the edge of the couch, resting her neck on the low back so she could continue to watch. Jag could do things with his mouth that sent white phosphorus exploding through her veins. She always watched when he ate her cunt. Always. Mostly because she wanted to know exactly how to replicate his talents.

She was always too distracted to remember.

He reached her and sat back onto his heels, awaiting further instructions.

“Mouth only until I say otherwise.”

“Yes ma’am,” she squinted down at him, not appreciating his patronizing tone but dismissed it, for now. Her need was too great and his mouth was so very close.

Engaging in the same intense eye contact she had used while on her knees, he locked his eyes to hers, then leaned against her thigh and trailed kisses, licks, and nips from knee to hip joint.

His improvisation almost snapped her out of her trance. This was about her being in control and he was deliberately misinterpreting her command.

She reached down and slapped the side of his face, enough to sting but not enough to leave much of a mark then captured his jaw between her index and thumb. “You think you’re so fucking clever, Fel. This is your last warning. Mouth only. Now.” She punctuated the sentiment by grabbing his hair and forcing his face into her core.

He seemed glad to oblige.

His tongue immediately darted into her dripping opening where he lapped just slightly, seeming to take a taste and hummed in satisfaction, savoring her. He ran his tongue along the length of her slit, then pressed harder against her lips, from back to front, before teasing the hood covering the bundle of nerves eagerly awaiting his attention.

Stars filled her vision but she refused to look away. Wrapping her legs around his shoulders, she continued to pull his hair in appreciation as he worked his tongue around the engorged clit, teasing it into painful fullness. Rolling her hips, he took the hint and alternated suction and flicking, with just the right amount of relief using broad licks.

“Kriff, yes, just like that Jag. Stars, I’ve missed this.”

After a few moments of pure euphoria threatening to border on misery, she yanked on his hair, pulling back his face and took in the sight: puffy lips and chin glistening, his eyes glazed, unfocused, with a blissed out quality that she knew he rarely experienced --  
Because she knew his secret: he liked to be ordered around and controlled every bit as much as she enjoyed controlling. And providing pleasure while enduring pain was a sure fire way to put him into a head-space of service.

“Kriff, Jagged, you’d look even sweeter with your mouth on my cunt.” She mocked.

A sluggish smile broke across his normally stoic features as she threw back his corny line from earlier.

“And we’ll get back to that in just a moment…” she pulled him up to his knees and leaned forward to capture his lips in a too-tender kiss - it made her insides seize in pain.

_No, no, no, not yet._

Crushing her mouth back down with bruising intensity and falling from the couch, she managed to push Jag flat onto his back and straddled his hips.

“Yes, I think this will do even better,” she purred in appreciation of the new position. 

Shimming up his body, but keeping enough lift in her hips to clear his chest, she settled over his grinning lips, eager with anticipation.  
She spread her knees wider so she could lower the last few inches over his mouth.

“Open yourself to me Jag, I need to know what you’re thinking.” She tried to keep her tone light be knew she failed. This was crossing a line from casual to something deeply intimate. But she needed to control the connection through and through.

His eyes took on a pleading quality for a moment before closing in resignation and exhaling through his nose in agreement, all the while continuing to feast upon her cunt.

Jaina rode his face as she pressed into his mind - one so neatly organized she knew exactly where to go.

“I want to know what dirty things you’re thinking, because I know you Jag. I know how you replay things in your head. I want to know if we’re thinking about the same thing but I already have that sinful mouth of yours occupied.” Her voice sounded distant, like she was in another room. And in some ways, she was, as she slipped into Jag’s mind.

At first she was caught in a loop of ecstasy - seeing herself from his angle and experiencing the joy of having her again. Jaina could feel the threat of heartbreak but forced it away, searching for the memory in the forefront of Jag’s mind.  
Going deeper into his consciousness, she saw the last time she was in this position:

~~+~~

It was during one of their many meetings in Coruscant after the Yuuzhan Vong the war had ended and Jag was serving as a liaison between the New Republic and the Chiss Ascendency. He was constantly one-upping himself to hold onto the promise made at Zonama Sekot where he swore the time they were able to spend time together would be completely and utterly memorable.

He had a room at The Elite, one of the most luxurious hotels in Galactic City. One known for discretion but also unmatched amenities.  
In the middle of the expansive room was an antique claw foot tub which he filled with warm bubbly water spiced with a hint of her favorite scented oils.

They shared a bath - innocently enough, they merely enjoyed the space with Jaina comfortably nestled against his chest and between his legs, while alternating turns drinking straight from the bottle of Alderaanian wine he somehow obtained, and watched the day cycle end over Coruscant.

Eventually though, enough of the wine had Jaina’s gears turning and she started shifting her bottom against Jag, subtle at first but encouraged by the stiffening against her back. They exchanged a few kisses before deciding to get out of the water and move onto other activities.

Jag had already gone through the trouble of laying soft blankets down in front of the imitation fireplace - real enough heat and with a gentle crackling sound - knowing they would end up there eventually.

“Come here” he coaxed as he popped open another bottle, this time a red effervescent wine from Csilla. Jaina smirked, knowing that drink meant they wouldn’t be making their dinner reservation.

Sliding up next to him on the pallet, luxuriating for a moment in the feel of the soft fabric against her lightly oiled skin, she sat on her knees and snatched the bottle. Taking a long pull, long enough that Jag coughed to cover his chuckle, she appreciated the comfort of the synthesized flame from outside and the warmth of the liquor building inside, as well as the unrelated heat burning low in her belly.  
She leaned in to kiss Jag, who was propped on one arm and laying on his side. In her excitement, she knocked him back but didn’t break the link.

Tasting of wine and lust and the herbal mix that was uniquely Jag, she lost herself in the moment, searching for as much contact with his body as possible.

She threw a leg over his hip but was sitting too high to be aligned with the cock curving towards her ass so very invitingly.  
Abruptly standing, Jag let out a laugh, “where are you going?”

Looking out the full length transparasteel window, taking in the skyline of the ecumenopolis, then back at her lover she instructed him to move just a little to the left so she could watch the last hint of light disappear. Taking another sip from the bottle, she set it down so it was within reach but not in danger of being knocked over.

He lifted a hand to her which she happily took, intertwining their fingers as she bent forward and asked “do you trust me?”  
Without a bit of sarcasm or humor, he stated gravely, “with my life, absolutely.”

“Good, good.” She nodded as a devilish grin split her face.

“Oh no, I know that look, what do you have planned Jaina?” Playfulness and a hint of fear crept back into his tone.

“Give me your other hand.”

He complied and she placed them both on the outside of her thighs for support as she stepped to straddle his face.

Peering down, and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear in a gesture that felt almost too innocent for the moment, “I want to try something new.”

Jag’s brows furrowed in concern “Jaina, I’m not sure I want to try out watersp…”

“Gross, Jag. No, just…” she trailed off as she lowered down to her knees. A spark of understanding flickered in Jag’s eyes and he smiled.  
“This, this is a much better plan. I like this plan.”

“Tap my thigh if it’s too much, ok?”

He nodded in the small space between her thighs before grabbing onto her perfectly shaped ass, bringing her velvety lips to meet his tongue and parted her with the skill and precision he used so dangerously in his piloting. Mimicking maneuvers performed in his Clawcraft, he corkscrewed and weaved around her clit with occasional dips into her pulsing slit, a sense of delight crossing his face each time he renewed his taste of her.

Emboldened by his enthusiasm, she instructed through a shaky voice heavily laced with desire, “Hold out your tongue and don’t move.” He complied, stretching his tongue flat. Jaina rocked her hips and moaned as she ground down against the soft but rigid muscle then, leaning back and taking in the sight before her, she caught the bottle out of the corner of her eye.

That devilish grin returned as she took a small sip then poured the wine into his open mouth, sliding down his tongue that was still held against her clit.

Lifting up so he could cough, but still clearly in the moment, it was his turn to take on a predatory grin as he rolled up into a sitting position, holding onto her hips and crashed her back into the blankets. Settling between her knees that had fallen open during their abrupt shift, he grabbed the bottle that managed to not fall from her hand nor spill, took a long pull, and leaned down to whisper into her ear, “you have no idea how well you pair with that wine” before burying himself inside her tender cunt and rocking them both into oblivion.

~~+~~

Snapping back to the present, and out of Jag’s head, Jaina shook away the fog of the memory that only took an instant to recall.  
“It seems I was correct.” There was a dangerous edge to her voice, “I’m sorry I don’t have any of that wine but somehow I think you’ll manage.”

He continued with feverish dedication but Jaina felt reality gnawing away at the edges of this little bubble and she knew she would soon be thrust back into chaos and sharpening and isolation.

“I bet you want to throw me back like that night and fuck me, don’t you?” Jaina teased him, knowing it was nearly impossible for him to respond.

He nodded in the tiny space between the floor and her body, and Jaina quickly stood.

She turned around the room, deciding where she wanted him to go.

“Sit on the couch, in the middle.” She instructed, feeling confident and in control.

Still compliant and pliable, Jag lifted himself off the floor more gracefully than should have been possible and sat with perfect posture on the couch, legs spreading just slightly - his cock standing proudly, a deep red at the head and leaking clear fluid.  
Without saying another word, Jaina climbed up, settling over Jag with her knees set outside of his thighs and held his gaze. Slowly she lowered herself onto his painfully full cock, both gasping at the moment of contact. It had been so long for them both, together or with anyone else. This felt...different. Like a beginning and an end.

She had always struggled to take all of him but for some reason she was determined to do so right now. Maybe because she knew the pain would border on masochistic, maybe because she was anxious to have as much of him as she could before it was too late.

She continued rocking her hips - maintaining eye contact that stripped her down to her atoms and rebuilt her in Jag’s image of perfection.

She couldn’t look at him anymore - it was too much. She arched forward and placed her nipple against his lips. Taking the cue, Jag swirled his tongue around the point, dragging his teeth along the tender underside, and finally sucked the bead into his mouth which evoked a whine from Jaina that seemed to make his cock twitch.

That was a sensation she could definitely enjoy a little more.

“Do that again,” she instructed through trembling lips.

She moaned with the same reaction, losing herself in the mix of sensations. Feeling the chrono etching away at their time together, she slammed down her hips and reached the base. His eyes grew wide when she settled in to enjoy the stretch. She grinned through the flinch, then rolled back in pleasure as she began to fuck him in earnest.

“Touch me,” she whispered into his ear as she buried her head in his shoulder and used the curve in her spine to create leverage for lifting herself nearly off his cock entirely only to crash back down, wincing at the decadent tendrils of pain that came from pushing her physical limits in a new way.

Being this close to Jag’s head she couldn’t help but feel like their thoughts were traveling on a two way street.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck, I miss you, need you, feel so good inside, around me, need you, please you, never forget your taste, never forgot what you like, mine, yours, fuck, harder._

Jag was running his hands all over her body, seeming to map the contours of her skin into his memory then stilled around her hips to provides additional support: lifting a little higher and pushing her a little bit lower.

She grabbed a hand from her waist and pressed it against her chest, covering it with her own - bursting wide the link of their minds and flooding the two way traffic.

_Feel me, yours always, save me, I won’t let you fall._

Snapping open her eyes once she realized how close she was and how much, entirely too much, she was sharing, she clambered for control in the final moments by seizing both hands and trapping them with her own just above his shoulders, forcing his elbows wide.  
“Come with me now or you won’t come at all.” Jaina struggled to keep her voice steady but managed an almost disconnected, indifferent tone. Brash but effective.

She really hoped he wouldn’t call her bluff because she needed to feel him almost as much as she needed the release herself.  
He nodded and rolled his hips in time with hers, a synchronicity learned long ago on a distant planet during a different war.  
Dropping her head in concentration, unaware of the fact that she pressed her forehead to his, she unleashed a feral growl as the muscles inside her cunt spasmed around the welcome intruder and her nerves shot beams of laser fire throughout. Feeling Jag’s amplified pulsing, she rode out the rest of the crashing wave and sagged against his chest.

After a few moments of stillness, she untangled their limbs, dressed, and moved to sit on the other side in the makeshift training room, assuming a pose of meditation. Jag apparently dressed as well for when she opened her eyes a few minutes later he was attempting to look busy by straightening his desk.

“I have to go to Hapes. I’m taking a Stealth-X so I’ll be…”

“It’s fine, Jaina. Zekk and I will keep up our work here and you’ll come back whenever you can.” He forced a smile that would break her heart if she hadn’t already shut down everything vulnerable inside of her. He continued, “we have plenty to do, after all.”  
Without another word Jaina stood, straightened her jumpsuit, gave Jag a slight nod in thanks, and walked through the door.

==+==

Once she was gone, Jag calmly sat back at his desk, reached into the drawer, and poured himself a drink. He leaned heavily into the chair and pressed the glass to his lips, noticing the little crescents Jaina left on the back of his hand. She didn’t realize she had intertwined their fingers when she immobilized them the last time.

It would seem she didn’t realize a few key things. Like the remainder of that memory.

~~+~~  
Jag walked back towards the fireplace where a satiated Jaina wrapped herself in a fresh blanket and was staring out at the Coruscant lights, twinkling in the never-quite-dark of night.

He carried a tray with a few bottles of water and a plate of small decadent snacks.

He set the tray behind them and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She shifted her weight, tucking her head against him, where he was able to drop a kiss onto the top of her head.

“I love you,” he whispered into her ruffled brown hair.

“Even when I make you do horribly dirty things?”

He let an unexpectedly jovial laugh break the comfortable quiet filling of the room, “especially when you make me do horribly dirty things. If I’m only certain about one thing in this world, it’s that my life is never boring with you around.”

She huffed an agreement and they lapsed into contemplative silence.

Jag brought around the tray to sit in front of them. He wondered if she could feel his anxiety but knew that he was better than most non-Jedi at shielding his emotions.

Not wanting to take away from the moment, he merely waited until...

“Jag, wh...what? Wh…” she took a deep breath. “Let me try that again: what is this?”

She held up a sparkling platinum band with glittering diamonds leading up to a larger center stone that was eye catching but not so opulent it would snag on seams and get stuck in gloves.

“I’ve been offered the opportunity to stay here on Coruscant and set up an embassy for the Ascendency. You said no before because it meant moving to Csilla but now that I can come to you I thought…” Jag saw his future melt away when she finally turned back to him, ”wrong, apparently.” A frown tugged down his lips, echoing the sinking feeling inside.

Tears filled her eyes as he spoke.

“I...can’t, Jagged, I can’t. Not now. Probably not ever. The prophecy, my ...the Sword...” her tone was barely held together with razor wire, threatening to slice their fingers if either tried to force it back into something more solid.

“Prophecy be damned, Jaina! I love you. Is that not enough?” The tears fell from his eyes now, unable to hold back the flood of emotions that would erode him into sand.

She wanted to scoff, wanted to turn this back around on him but she forced a response, shaking her head, “no, I’m sorry, it’s not enough. I have a duty and, whether I understand that duty or not, I can’t commit myself to a life that might never be my own.”  
She placed the ring back into his hand and curled his fingers around it.

“I’m so sorry” she whispered again. “I’ll go.”

Tightening the blanket around her body, she shuffled off to the bedroom to gather her belongings. A few moments later she caught Jag’s reflection in the window, nodded, and walked through the door.


End file.
